“I’m not helping you with any story because there’s no story here,” Bill snarls out, leaning more into the reporter’s personal space.
“I beg to differ.” The self-importance seeps off Harry. In his world, he has to push boundaries and make powerful people angry enough to snap and tell him the truth. He believes that he’s doing better for the world, making a difference by keeping people updated with the news they need to know. Bill’s opinion of Harry’s work is very different. “Word is a former client is suing you for $100,000,000 in the civil court. That’s not going to look good for you, but it’s going to sell media space for me. This is going to be a massive story, and I’m running with it, man. It’s going to be huge. It’ll launch my career.”
“There’s no story.”
“Give me something, Bill. Don’t just let me go on rumors. Give me something solid to work with. I would hate to write an article without your input. If I had to do that, it might even be unduly unfair to you. Of course, none of us would want that, so please, just give me something to go on.”
“I’ll give you my fist if you don’t leave me alone.”
Harry smiles; it’s a threat he hears often. Sometimes, the people even follow through on the threat, but he has taken enough punches to know a good story is worth it. A front page on the paper, a leading story online, gives him all the satisfaction that he needs.
“I don’t think I need to tell you how a negative article will affect your career.”
Bill draws a deep breath. Being threatened by reporters is not something he enjoys. “How long do I have until you write the article?”
“Two weeks, maximum. Maybe even before then.”
Two weeks until Bill’s career is stained forever.
And that’s the problem with ideas on the Internet – they’re forever. One leaked photo, one slanderous article, and then suddenly your name is mud, no matter how many times they retract the article.
If this story reaches the Internet, then the information is there to be found over and over and over again – whether it’s correct or not.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you something, if you give me something.” Harry adjusts his hat as his target begins walking away.
“What could you possibly give me?”
“A name and a location.”
“I don’t need either of those.”
“You might if the name is Monty Lee.”
Bill stops. He had spent the afternoon looking for Monty Lee, the former business partner, but gave up when all the leads dried up. Monty disappeared from the world five years ago after Tiffany Lee was kidnapped.
“Ah, I see that’s caught your attention. You’re interested in what I’m selling.”
“How could you possibly know where he is? He’s off the grid – been untraceable for years.”
“Not to me. I covered that story a lot; a sad story where he lost two daughters. I was there when he made the decision to disappear, to save his last daughter. He thought that Kevin Wu was going to come after his third daughter as well, so he went to the hills. Off the grid, as you say. But he gave me something first.” Harry waves his finger in the air. “He gave me the details of his location just in case anything ever turned up. He wanted to know if justice ever came to Kevin Wu. And rumor in the LAPD is that they’re close to charging Kevin Wu with the murder of Monty’s second daughter. No body has been found, but they say that they can get him on kidnapping charges. Monty would love to know that piece of information.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Give me something to work with, and I’ll give you Monty’s location.”
Bill looks up, then left and right. Except for a few people hurrying out of the darkness, the streets are empty around them. His wonton soup is going cold, but that can wait. He usually burns his mouth on the first sip anyway.
“Alright, Harry, I’ll give you something. Kevin Wu is taking me to court.”
“I know that.”
“He claims that my hypnotherapy sessions changed his brain behavior and he’s suing me for damages. He’s saying that he made bad business deals under my influence. He claims that I unduly influenced his behavior and as a result, he’s suing me for loss and damage.”
“This is all public knowledge. I need something more than that.”
Bill draws another long breath. “But my feeling is that he’s using the civil court as a precursor to the criminal court.”
“Go on.”
“Like you said, rumor is that he’s about to be charged with either the kidnapping or murder of Tiffany Lee, Monty’s second daughter. A tip-off has arrived and all of a sudden, that cold case is open again. But that crime occurred just after the hypnotherapy sessions.”
“So, you’re saying that he’s going to claim that the hypnotherapy sessions changed his behavior in such a way that he’s not criminally responsible for any crime that occurred?”
“Exactly. But he won’t make that move until the criminal charges are laid against him. The civil court is his way to test that defense in court without the criminal charges. A first take, if you will – a chance to test his expert witnesses and evidence, and see what works and what doesn’t. If it works, then he’ll use the same defense in the criminal court, and if it doesn’t, he’ll know where he went wrong.”
“Clever,” Harry comments, biting his lip. “Very clever. I knew he was cunning, but this is next level. The man should be congratulated for his planning.”
“I’m not going to congratulate him.”
“Of course not. But you have to admit that it’s clever, even if you’re on the wrong side of it.”
Bill steps closer to Harry. “Tell me where Monty Lee is hiding.”
“Near Wrightwood – about three hours drive from here. Take the last left as you come out of the town. It’s right up the top near Mountain High Resort. Once you pass the last house out of Wrightwood, you’ll see a rusty gate on your left. He’s living up there with his wife, mother, and child, growing their own food, and homeschooling their daughter.” He scribbles an address on a piece of paper. “There’s a small community up there on acres of private land, but be careful.”
“Why? He was a numbers man, not the muscle of the business.”
“He’s a former accountant, but he’s no pen pusher anymore. These days, he’s an angry man that lives off the land, and they have their own laws in the community up there. The man is dangerous, and still very, very angry. Just step carefully with Monty. Very carefully.”
Chapter 22
Monty Lee was indeed hard to find.
He’s hidden like a man that never wants to be found.
After the accidental death of his youngest daughter, his loving family was distraught and devastated. She was only five, only a sweet little angel, when her parents were at Kevin Wu’s home for a party to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Innocently, she picked up a bag of white powder and tasted it. She was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.
As a grieving father, Monty sought someone to blame, and Kevin Wu was the obvious target. He pushed and pushed the LAPD to charge him with murder, or at least, manslaughter, and even though he was arrested and questioned, no charges were ever laid. There was simply not enough evidence to charge him with criminal negligence. Without an arrest, Monty felt like he was letting his deceased daughter down. Every day that passed without consequence for Kevin, Monty felt like he was failing his daughter, failing the honor of his family.
It was Kevin’s only daughter who went missing next, only weeks later.
All fingers pointed at Monty, but again, there was no evidence. It was a clean kidnapping, and nobody was talking.
Kevin Wu was not a man to take the disappearance of his daughter lightly, and soon after, a third child, Monty’s eldest, went missing. This time, there was no doubt who was guilty, but evidence is another thing altogether.
Three children bore the consequences of a terrible accident.
And two families were ne
ver going to be the same.
Like all good fathers would, Monty spent a long time looking for his missing daughter, and many hours trying to prove that it was powerful Kevin Wu that kidnapped her. And they got so close, but the DA wasn’t convinced that they had enough evidence to convict him. Without a body, there was never going to be a murder charge.
It was only once they were really close to an arrest that a targeted shooting occurred at Monty’s house, and it almost took the lives of his wife and daughter. It was at this point that Monty decided to cut his losses and run.
To save their remaining daughter from the terrors of the criminal underworld, the Lee family disappeared into the hills. Along with his mother, they found a settlement of people living a simple life, cut-off from society. The Lee’s erased all trace of their existence; destroyed everything and left no trail behind them. Completely off the grid.
Their only contact with their former life was reporter Harry Beach, and he was to contact them with any update on their daughter’s case.
But Harry Beach is a wheeler and dealer, and he will use any information he has to secure a story.
As Bill drives up the long-wooded driveway, his car is hit by numerous overhanging branches and bounces over large potholes in the rarely used dirt road. Finally, he comes to a clearing and brings the car to a slow halt. A few paces away, a man swings an axe out the front of a small house and doesn’t even look up at the clearly out of place shiny black Mercedes.
Carefully stepping out of the car, Bill studies his surrounds – a small clearing, one brick house, five old caravans, and evidence of vegetable cultivating behind the six-foot fence surrounding the house, keeping the animals out at night.
Half an hour from the closest town, their existence is deliberately cut-off from the world. No electricity, no town water, no modern luxuries.
“Hello. I’m after a man named Monty Lee.” Bill states as he steps out of the car into the fresh mountain air.
The powerful axe swings down, breaking the wood in half, but no answer comes from the man’s mouth.
Bill steps closer.
“I’d stop there if I were you.” The man grunts as he swings the axe again, not taking his eyes off the job.
Bill doesn’t stop; he doesn’t respond well to threats.
As he steps forward, the man stops swinging the axe and stares at Bill. It’s been a while since he last saw a stranger come through this area.
The man resembles the photo of the Chinese-born Monty Lee that Bill found, but he no longer has the body of an accountant. His forearms are thick, shoulders wide, cuts covering his overworked hands. His flannel shirt is a mixture of blood, sweat, and more sweat. Hardworking and weathered, he looks like he hasn’t smiled in years.
He wipes his brow with the back of his forearm and then nods towards the small house, where a woman stands at the door with a shotgun in hand, an older lady behind her.
“That’s my wife, Tessa Lee, and my mother, Ling Lee. They really don’t like strangers. So, I suggest that you stop walking this way and start talking.”
“My name is Bill Harvey.” Bill stops walking forward, looking at Monty Lee but keeping the women in his peripheral vision.
“You a cop?”
“No. I’m a lawyer.”
Monty laughs. “Don’t need a lawyer up here, pal!” He opens his hand to indicate to the forest around them. “Whatever you want to sell me, we don’t want it. We’re not buying.”
“I’m not here to sell anything.” Bill takes another step closer. “I’m here to talk about your past.”
Monty stares at him, looks across to his wife, nods, and then the women disappear back into the house. Bill’s shoulders relax as the timeworn door swings shut behind her.
The caravans that surround the house are all from the early 60s and look like they have been used every day since. There is repair work on all five, a missing window on one, and a missing door on another. It’s at this point that Bill sees a beat-up pickup truck parked at another entrance to the clearing, and he hears another truck roar in the distance.
“You came up the wrong road.” Monty nods towards the Mercedes. “I’m surprised your car made it up that road. Usually, most sedans bottom out up there – I’ve had to tow a few cars out.”
“I didn’t realize there was more than one way in.”
“Most people don’t realize there are roads up here. It’s private property, and that’s the way we like it – private.” Monty leans the axe against a nearby tree stump. “But I was expecting someone to be coming by. I guess you’ve spoken with Harry.”
“That’s right.”
“And do you have an update on the case?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here then?”
“I need your help.”
“I’m not the helpful sort, pal.”
Monty never trusted Harry Beach, but it was the only way he could remain updated on his daughter’s case. He called him every month that he ventured into town, hopeful that there would be something to add, something that drew them closer to closing the cold case. He even let himself hope that Tiffany would be found alive one day.
When Harry relayed information that Kevin was close to being arrested for Tiffany’s murder, his heart sunk. Not because the case was coming to a close, but because it meant that little flame of hope that his daughter was alive was blown out completely. It still breaks his heart every day that he thinks about Tiffany, still makes him shed a tear when he’s alone in the pine forest.
He couldn’t tell his mother, Tiffany’s grandmother, the news yet. Out of everyone, she was the most convinced that Tiffany was still alive. The news that she wasn’t would completely destroy her.
“How many of you are up here?” Bill asks.
“Enough.”
“A medium sized house, five caravans, a basement. That’s enough to fit a small community.”
“What’s your point?”
“It’s must be a quiet life out here. I would hate for that to be spoiled.” Bill makes a thinly veiled reference to his ability to find him.
Monty stares at Bill, processing the information, and once he has, his right hand grips the axe again. Lifting it up so that it sits on his shoulders, Monty clenches his jaw. “It’s quiet enough to make sure that if someone disappears, they’re never found again.”
Bill nods, an acknowledgment of the threat. “I’ll get to the point. I’m having trouble with Kevin Wu.”
The grip on the axe tightens. “We don’t speak that name around here.”
For a former accountant, he seems quite scary. “I need your help. You were his inside man, and you know information that could help me put him away. Help me put him behind bars.”
“I can’t help you.”
“I’m looking for someone to testify that he’s setting me up. He planned my downfall five years ago, when you were still close to him. He meticulously and cunningly planned for me to take the blame for a crime that he committed. I need you to testify that he set me up.” Bill deliberately doesn’t mention which crime. “Someone mentioned you might be able to do that.”
“No.”
He studies the unflinching man with a sharp axe. “They also mentioned that you would know where his old notes are, a specific black book. If you’re not willing to testify, then at least tell me where the notes are. That’s all I need. The black book – the one with the names of his prostitution clients. I know that it wasn’t burned, so I just need to see it. It will show the court how bad his prostitution racket was. I can send him away with that alone. I’m sure you want to see that.”
“I can’t help you,” Monty repeats, his grip still firm on the axe.
“Maybe you’ve got them stored in that basement under the house?” Bill nods towards the basement door near the side of the house.
The reply is strong. “There’s nothing in there. Whoever told you that I could help is wrong. Very wrong. I’m not risking my family again. There’s evil
in the city, and I refuse to risk my family again. Leave us alone.”
“Terrance Marshall assured me that you would help.”
“Terrance Marshall?” Monty’s jaw clenches tighter.
The knuckles gripping the axe turn white. It’s not a name he enjoys hearing either.
“Does he know I’m here? Did you tell him our location?”
“No.”
“What else did Terrance say? What did he say about me?”
Bill squints. “What do you think he said?”
“I’m innocent. I had nothing to do with it. It was all Terrance’s decision, and I didn’t do anything. I had nothing to do with it. I’m innocent, and if you think that I’m going to go down for that oaf, then you’re going to meet the end of this axe.”
Thoughts run through Bill’s head. “Innocent of what?”
Monty stares at Bill, trying to read his expression. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything. Don’t try and trap me into saying something I didn’t do. I’m innocent.”
“All Terrance told me was that you could help me with the notes.”
“No.” Monty grunts. “Don’t trust Terrance Marshall. Not one bit. He’s a killer and has been his whole life. Tell him that if he ever comes this way, then he will find himself at the bottom of a very shallow grave. Alive. I’ll bury that man alive.”
“You’re not friends with Terrance?” Bill pushes him.
“We’re not friends. That man is a criminal, and he’s done things that nobody should ever witness. I had nothing to do with whatever he claims. If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him. I can guarantee you that.” Monty shakes his head. “He came here once – said he was looking for me. I was impressed that he actually found us – I didn’t give that guy enough credit. Apparently, it’s harder to disappear than I first thought. One of the other residents told him that they’d never heard of me, and that was that. He never returned, but I can guarantee you that he’s still looking for me.”
The anger is starting to build in Monty’s body. His veins are pulsing in his ripped arms, his jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are narrowed on Bill’s movements.
A Time for Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 4) Page 10
